


To Take Over the World

by SolarMorrigan



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Bond and Q are bad people, Deeply inappropriate reactions to murder, M/M, Mentions of Underage Sex, they're also married, villain AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-14
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2019-05-07 00:50:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14659764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SolarMorrigan/pseuds/SolarMorrigan
Summary: Q is young, and he is small, and he is brilliant. James is rather less young and rather less small, but is brilliant in his own way. Q is tired of being taken advantage of. James is tired of being out of control. They both start at the bottom.Bond and Q become the Bond-est Bond Villains to ever Bond. Or something.





	To Take Over the World

**Author's Note:**

> Basically an ode to [this amazing piece of art](http://10kiaoi.tumblr.com/post/173774894083/a-villains-only-as-good-as-their-lair-and) by [10kiaoi](http://10kiaoi.tumblr.com/). Go look at it, it's so over the top and wonderful. I couldn't decide if I liked subtle-villains-Q-and-Bond or Extra-villains-Q-and-Bond, so this ended up a bit of both. The cat is named after Elizabeth Báthory, if anyone was wondering
> 
> Fuller content warnings at the bottom if you're worried about potential triggers

Q is young, and he is small, and he is brilliant. James is rather less young and rather less small, but is brilliant in his own way. Q is tired of being taken advantage of. James is tired of being out of control. They both start at the bottom.

Q is almost seventeen (not really, but it sounds better than saying he’s just barely scraping sixteen) and James honestly isn’t one hundred percent sure how old he is because he stopped keeping track and really doesn’t give a shit anymore (he’s twenty-five; Q looks it up but doesn’t tell James because James _doesn’t care_ ). James thinks Q is too young to be part of a bloody crime syndicate and is _much_ too young to be ordering him around; Q thinks James needs to shut the hell up and listen to him. James doesn’t, and gets himself shot.

It’s a rather inauspicious beginning, but it’s not as though either of them have ever been smiled upon by fortune before. They get their feet under them and learn to work in tandem. In a year, they become one of the most successful teams in the organization.

In a year and a half, they are sleeping together.

In two years, Q is chafing at being told what to do by people far less intelligent than he is, and James is itching for something bigger to do. Their direct superiors begin to worry, but James and Q aren’t quite that reckless. They can be patient.

It takes time, but with a few fortuitous accidents and some strategic disappearances, James and Q find themselves rising through the ranks as they take out some of the men _above_ their direct superiors – someone has to fill those holes, and they can worry about those men later. It hardly seems suspicious; theirs is a dangerous line of work, after all. Things do happen.

They find themselves sitting just a few rungs below the top of the tallest criminal ladder in London (in all of England, really, and it grows higher still), and James wonders if Q will be satisfied when they reach the top. He sincerely hopes not. There is something so utterly captivating about the ruthless cold in his eyes as he sentences people to death from behind his screen, about the way his voice goes rough when talking James through a kill (about the way he welcomes James _home_ from a kill), and James never wants to stop.

They do reach the top rung, and then Q turns his sights on the continent. He has plans for the world, and thinks he and James have made a swimming start.

-/-/-

Loath though James is to admit it, Stromberg had been onto something with the sharks. It’s a wildly inefficient way to kill someone, of course, but wonderfully theatrical. Q doesn’t much favor the death-by-shark route, preferring instead to feed the sharks properly and dispose of their unwanted people at the end of a gun, but James has seen the way he watches when they do throw a victim in – he doesn’t dislike it half as much as he might say. Today, however, doesn’t call for sharks; their guest will meet a much more traditional end.

Pulling his jacket straight and tugging his cuffs, James joins Q in the reception room, smiling at the sight he’s presented with. It had taken a bit for Q to become comfortable as more than the shadow beyond a screen, but James thinks he’s inhabited the role of leader rather well. He’s a far cry from the shy, bitter hacker James met so, so many years ago. He inhabits his chair like a king on a throne, half covered with a fur (he does so hate the cold; why he insists on setting up shop in remote _frozen_ locations when there were remote _warm_ ones is beyond James) and half covered with Elizabeth, who is purring loudly enough to be heard across the room. James is fairly certain Q only agreed to the white suit jackets so the cat’s hairs would stop showing up on them, but he doesn’t much care either way. In his red waistcoat and dark tie, Q is resplendent; a monarch in his palace, idly awaiting consort and company.

James doesn’t disappoint, leaning in to steal a kiss from Q’s distracted mouth before the other man even looks up from his laptop. “Good afternoon, Mr. Bond.” He doubts if that will ever get old.

Q smirks, grabs at the lapel of James’ jacket and pulls him back in for another, more lingering kiss. “Good afternoon, Mr. Bond.” He murmurs against James’ lips when they part, “Ready to conduct some business?”

“Perfectly.”

“Good.” Q pulls away and looks back to his laptop, opening the doors once James has taken up his station behind him, gun at the ready.

A man in a lab coat stumbles into the room, pale and trembling slightly. This is generally the intended effect of the reception room—with the aquarium below, the garage and hangar beyond, and two of the world’s most dangerous men front and center, it’s meant to impress and intimidate—but in this case Bond suspects the man knows he has more to fear than their aesthetic.

“Mr. Stubb. Do come in.” Q is polite and unsmiling; James gives a smile unsettling enough for the both of them.

Stubb comes closer despite what must be all better judgement; Q has that effect on people. “Mr. Stubb, you’ve been with our organization for five years, is that correct?”

“Th- that is correct.” Stubb nods.

“And you have been residing at this facility for just under a year.”

Stubb nods again, though it hadn’t quite been a question.

“I realize it perhaps isn’t the homeliest place, but we have tried to make it comfortable for our employees.” Q strokes at Elizabeth’s fur, and she purrs louder for him.

“Oh, it’s- it’s wonderful here, Sir.” Stubb assures Q quickly.

Q hums. “You’ve done excellent work for us in the last five years. I can always tell a biological agent from your lab, Mr. Stubb. Always so unique.”

“Thank you, Sir.” Stubb glances around the room, nervously.

“This is why I find it so troubling that some of our competitors have been making use of the very same agents you have been creating here.”

Stubb, if possible, pales further. “I–”

“Have we not compensated you handsomely, Mr. Stubb?” Q’s voice is still soft, almost inquisitive.

“Of course! You have, of course, I would – I would _never_ –”

“Have we not opened our home to you? Accepted you into our most secure place?” They have more secure places than this, and more besides, but no one else need know that.

“I – There’s been… a misunderstanding, Sir, I think–”

“What I find most baffling, however, is that you decided to conduct your illicit business electronically. As though I wouldn’t notice any sort of discrepancy in _my own network_.” Q’s voice has gone hard in the best sort of way, “And then you’ve come here to _lie_ to me about it.”

Stubb looks as though he might faint right there. James hopes he doesn’t; it would be a highly disappointing end to the meeting.

“This sort of infraction cannot be overlooked, Mr. Stubb. You will not be continuing with our organization. Mr. Bond will be seeing to your removal.”

Stubb takes one shaking step back, but seems frozen there, wide eyes moving from Q’s face, to James’, to James’ gun. James continues to smile at Stubb, but leans down to murmur in Q’s ear. “What do you think about giving him a head start? Hardly seems sporting to shoot him right here.”

The look Q sends James says he knows exactly why James wants to give Stubb a running start and that it has nothing to do with sportsmanship, but finally favors him with an indulgent little smile. “I don’t see why not.”

Q’s fingers find their way back to his keyboard, and the doors behind Stubb slide open, giving the man a violent startle. “You’ll have sixty seconds to get as far from this room as possible.” Q informs him, “Then Mr. Bond will be coming for you.”

Stubb doesn’t move, expression warring between disbelief and horror.

“Go on, Mr. Stubb,” Q’s voice curls warmly around the order, “Run.”

Stubb turns, stumbles, _runs_.

James presses a kiss to Q’s temple. “You’re too good to me, Darling.”

Q snorts around a laugh, turning and catching James’s lips before he can draw away. “Go and have your fun, then. I’ll be watching.” His eyes twitch back towards his computer, where the surveillance feed of their facility is waiting to be pulled up, “Come find me when you’re done.”

“With pleasure.” James grins.

The sixty seconds are up, and James goes after their wayward chemist.

-/-/-

Later, after James has done away with Stubb in a manner that was more efficient than feeding him to the sharks, but only just; after he came to find Q waiting for him in their bed, greeting him with kisses that were all teeth and lust; after he pressed Q’s knees up to his ears and fucked him into the mattress and through another toe-curling orgasm after that when Q moved to swipe away the blood James hadn’t noticed spotting the edge of his jaw; after all of that, they lay content beneath expensive sheets, wrapped up in one another.

“Well that was a very productive day.” James declares quietly, running his fingers idly through Q’s hair, “What would you like to do tonight, Q?”

“Oh, the same thing we do every night, I imagine:” Q smiles against James’ chest, “Anything we damned well please.”

**Author's Note:**

>  **Content warnings** : The underage sex is only briefly mentioned and takes place between Bond and Q when Q would have been about 17. It is implied and then spoken of more explicitly that both Bond and Q are aroused by Bond killing people, but the act of murder is not described and the sex does not go into detail. If any of this sounds iffy to you, maybe give this fic a miss!


End file.
